On New Year’s Day of 2013, Glasson began keeping detailed notes of his shots on pieces of paper and a large calendar. Every year since then, according to his log, he has successfully made thousands of shots from that faraway distance.

When I met Glasson last Wednesday afternoon at Quinnipiac University’s Athletic and Recreation Center in Hamden to watch him in action, his record sheets showed he was up to a total of 12,643 made shots from half-court.

His motivation for this? He wants to impress his grandson, who is good enough at basketball to land a college scholarship to play the game. He will soon depart for his freshman year.

Glasson, who is 60, has rarely seen the young man in recent years because Glasson is estranged from a branch of his family. Glasson is divorced and now lives with his brother in North Haven.

“Instead of being sad and depressed, I do the shots and put it on YouTube,” Glasson said. “Hopefully, my grandson will see it. (Anyone who logs onto YouTube and types in Glasson’s full name will easily see clips of him making some amazing long distance shots.)

”When Glasson’s friend, Vincent DeJoy, told me about Glasson’s basketball shooting, DeJoy did not mention the family situation. But he noted Glasson had heart surgery last year, before which he regularly donated many gallons of blood.

“I’m a little nervous!” was the first thing Glasson said to me when we met at the gym. It was clear he was very pumped up as he did some preliminary dribbling around the court.

He explained his nervousness stemmed from the pressure of a newspaper writer and our photographer being there to record his performance. He also noted, “I haven’t used this court before” because usually he takes his shots at the fitness club where he has a membership. Logistical problems prevented us from being there, so Quinnipiac University officials generously allowed us to use one of their gyms.

Glasson stood at half-court, took a breath and began shooting; his style is a kind of hook shot using his right arm.

He missed his first six shots, then the seventh almost went in, but bounced off the rim. He continued not quite hitting it, although many did strike the rim. As he took more shots without sinking any, he said, “I’ve gotta calm down; I’m so excited.”

Finally, on his 37th shot, bingo! He did it. We took a break to talk and I didn’t press him to take any more shots. “You saw how many times I hit the rim,” he noted.

There’s no question the man loves the game but he told me he has never played on a team. “I’m too short. My dad always wanted me to play basketball but I’m 5-feet-8 inches.”

Glasson said whenever he played pick-up games, “I always took the far shots because I’d be open. I was never good enough to be on a team.”

Several times during our interview, Glasson told me about the day two months ago when he was driving by his grandson’s school and saw him standing outside. “I honked the horn and waved because I love him so much. He gave me the biggest smile you can imagine and he waved back!”

“I want my grandson to know that even though I’m 60, I still play basketball, I’m alive, and he inspires me,” Glasson said. “One day, I want to play with him.”

Glasson almost didn’t live to see 60. He underwent double bypass heart surgery on Feb. 2 of last year (which he noted was Groundhog Day). He said that a day or two before that, while he was having a good day of shooting at a gym, his body gave out.

“I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk. I nearly dropped dead. I was saying to myself, ‘I’m gonna die ‘coz my dad died of a heart attack when he was 56.’ I was 58.”

His cardiologist implanted a metal valve. Glasson’s 2016 calendar, which on most days has large numerical notations for the number of shots he made (including notes such as “two in a row”), was blank on that score until April 2016. But the pages have been full of his shots data ever since then, including all of this year. Glasson showed me the pieces of paper stuffed into envelopes, the notes he takes on the court before transferring the information onto the calendar, his permanent record.

This is all he can do to authenticate his achievement. When asked about being included in “The Guinness Book of World Records,” Glasson said it’s not possible. “You know why? You have to film every shot!”

In addition to the half-court shots, Glasson practices an even longer shot he calls “the bomb”: from the foul line to the basket on the opposite side of the court. “I’ve hit three bombs in a row four times this year. I made 71 bomb shots in two hours. That’s the most I ever did in one day.”

He said he usually shoots 60-90 minutes per day. “I’m going to try to get to 15,000 (half-court shots made) by the end of the year. If I keep going at the pace I’m on, sometime in November, I’ll get to 15,000.”

Glasson said he listens carefully to his doctor’s orders. “I’m only allowed to have two beers a week; I don’t drink wine. I try to drink 64 ounces of water a day. I need to drink more water.”

In addition to the heart surgery, Glasson said decades ago he had back surgery; he showed me the scar. In recent years, he added, he has had two throat surgeries, including one a couple of weeks ago, and two eye operations. Glasson told me he does not have a job and is on disability support because of his heart problem.

When I asked him about DeJoy’s report of his blood donations, Glasson said, “I gave a total of 12 gallons and four pints. I would’ve gone on; I wanted to go for 20. But I can’t do it anymore because of my heart surgery.”

Why did he give so much blood? “‘Coz I’m religious. It helps people who are suffering.”

Glasson told me he prays every day. He added, “Every time I sink a shot, I thank God and I say, ‘God bless my family, friends and neighbors and heaven and earth and all the people on earth who are suffering.’”

He said that at the end of his basketball prayer, “I forgive the people who are mean to me.” He also says a special prayer for his grandson.

When I asked Glasson if he has a girlfriend, he said, “No, I’m too shy.”

I gave him a baffled look. We had been sitting outside the athletic center and I had watched him engage a passing woman in a long conversation about his life, his health, his family situation and his basketball shots. But he insisted, “When it comes to women, I am shy.”

I asked Glasson how long he will keep shooting his basketball shots and he said he will just keep going. “I want to live until the day my grandson and I get to talk.”

He added, “I have to live my life and not be sad all the time. I used to be mad.”

When we parted, he thanked me and called out: “Keep living and try to stay positive!”